Starbucks Shrink
by OutCold
Summary: Gibbs-centric oneshot from the POV of his server at Starbucks. Merry Christmas to journalofcrime, hopefully talk soon.


**Disclaimer: I own 'you'.**

**A/N: Merry Christmas Doug. Hope you enjoy this. **

**A/N2: I know it's written from a weird POV, I just sorta did what felt right.**

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Leroy Jethro Gibbs is not a man you would forget if you met him once, twenty years ago, in dim lighting. Therefore definitely not a man you forget if you see him several times a day, nearly every day, in the harshly bright lighting of Starbucks.

His first call is at six. You can tell he's been up for a while because he isn't as bleary-eyed as you are. He takes the most time over this one, sometimes even sitting at a solitary table for fifteen minutes as he gently sips the strong black coffee, and you know he's relishing every mouthful. He doesn't order anymore, when you're in, just catches your eye and trusts that you know what he wants. He always tips after the six o'clock coffee, and occasionally even smiles. It's the best time.

His second comes between nine and eleven, if there's not a case. You know he's a federal agent, because you've seen his badge hanging off his belt when he forgets it's there, and anyway, he once got a call from an angry sounding woman who called him _'Special _Agent Leroy _Jethro _Gibbs' with the emphasis on Special and Jethro, just like that. It's how you know his name. That wasn't a good day for the nine-to-eleven coffee, he was very tense after the phone call, and he didn't give you any recognition after he took the cup, not even his usual miniscule nod. You wondered what it was about that woman that made him so short-tempered.

His third is at lunch, this is the first one he usually order's with a CafPow! for "Abby"  
You really wonder who Abby is, because you tried a CafPow! once in high school, and it kept you up for two nights, and yet she seems to drink at least two every day. He sounds fond of her, there's something soft in his voice when he says her name. You're not sure _why _he told you who it was for, but you're glad he did, you enjoy picking up these little bits of information.

The fourth is mid-afternoon, he's usually grouchy by this time. You can tell he's frustrated because as soon as you give him the coffee, he takes a gulp, like it calms him down. He orders a CafPow! now too, and leaves in a rush. You get the feeling he's not meant to be taking time off work for coffee.

The fifth is at the end of the working day, at least for you, and everyone normal, but not for him. He orders another coffee, with a CafPow! for Abby occasionally – you theorise that this is when they have a case – but not always.

If you cover for someone on a later shift, you see that he comes in again around eight. This is his last cup of the day, or at least the last he buys. He's usually tired, but strangely satisfied, and it pleases you that he seems to enjoy his job. This one is more like the morning one, though he never sits in. He takes his time though, walks slower, doesn't mind waiting, not that he usually has to, says goodnight.

Some days he won't come in at all, and some days he'll come in double his usual amount. Sometimes he won't come in for days, weeks, and once even months at a time. You worry about him, and hope he's okay, but so far he's always come back.

Sometimes he buys a tea, and two other coffees (three sugars and a hazelnut, white with one sugar). He's never said who they're for, but you guess it's his team. You also guess that they're really shocked when he does this, because he's not the sort of man who usually buys people refreshments, other than Abby (and you know that better than most).

Some days he looks exhausted, and sort of sad, and you know he has a case, and it's a really tough one, and occasionally you give him an extra shot of expresso for free. You know he can always tell when you do this, because he sort of smirks half-heartedly at you, and though at the time you know he's too stressed and busy, he leaves you a double tip with his next order, which you think completely destroys the point, but you're hardly going to say anything.

When you go home you sometimes think about him. Wonder what drives his actions, not to mention his addiction. Wonder what he's been through on the days he looks sad, and what went right on the days he looks happy, or his version of happy.

Mostly, you wonder if he'd mind you doing a case study on him for your psychology major.

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**Not sure about this, but Merry Christmas!**


End file.
